'True,' Apuleius conceded. 'I told people that was from the wood; it's the one effect of arsenic which is difficult to conceal. We thought no one would notice. I also had some denarii from Diocletian's reign. I thought I'd put them over the eyes – this would help date her death to years earlier.'

'And then what?' Claudia asked.

'I went to a local embalmer and bought the coffin. I carved the Christian symbols on it. We put Fulvia in it and buried her out here in the garden. We always intended to move her. The rest you know. The morning Venutus discovered her, Polybius naturally panicked and so did I. I was truly astonished at how well the corpse had been preserved.' Apuleius gestured at Oceanus and Narcissus. 'We took them into our confidence and they swore to help us.

Anyway/ he sighed, 'we took her out, washed her, resealed the skin and cleaned the inside of the coffer. We then peddled the story that it might be a Great Miracle, the work of God. On reflection,' he added ruefully, 'it was. If Fulvia's corpse had been discovered the night she'd died, my wife and I, well, we could have been crucified or sent to the amphitheatre.'

'You still could be,' Claudia declared. 'They would certainly accuse you of murdering her, of hiding her body, and you, Oceanus, Polybius and Narcissus, would be cast as accomplices.' She pointed at Narcissus. 'The story about the old porter in the gatehouse?'

'A story,' he mumbled. 'He'd remember anything if you gave him a coin for a cup of wine.'

'There is one thing you must all do,' Claudia whispered fiercely. 'Presbyter Sylvester will never mention this, and neither must you. You must keep your mouths firmly shut, and take an oath on anything you hold sacred that you will never, ever discuss this again. Let Helena have her Blessed Fulgentia. We know the truth. Polybius, you have made a great deal of money out of this trickery. I suggest you have the most to lose. Now you've repaid Torquatus' loan, I have one thing to demand of you.'

'Which is?'

'No more business ventures.' Claudia jabbed her finger. 'No more spices from Punt or precious sandalwood from Arabia or gum and resin from Lebanon, nothing! Do I have your promise?'

They all held their hands up like consuls taking the oath. Claudia had to suppress a smile.

'Tell me, Apuleius,' she did not wish to deepen their embarrassment, 'is arsenic that effective?'

'It's a true killer,' the apothecary replied, 'and its effects can rarely be traced. The patient suffers from stomach cramps and nausea as if he has eaten something bad or his blood is tainted. You've helped me, mistress.' He leaned across the table. 'I and the rest have already been thinking of how to help you. I mean, over that actor Theodore.'

'And,' Claudia asked, 'you've remembered something?'

'We've remembered nothing,' Apuleius declared, gesturing at the others to remain silent. 'But do you recall, Claudia, when Theodore came here he was suffering from cramps? He claimed he didn't feel well?'

Claudia felt the cold night breeze about her shoulders.

'What are you saying, Apuleius?'

'I am always intrigued by a man who dies in such circumstances. Naturally Fulvia's death weighed heavily on me. I thought of poison again. Mistress, in this tavern that night, no one entered whom Polybius didn't know. Remember, it was by ticket only; everybody was queuing up to see the Great Miracle.'

'And?'

'Which one of Polybius' customers would want to poison an actor they'd never met before?'

'What are you implying?' Claudia asked.

'If Theodore was murdered, and I think he was,- if he was poisoned, and I suspect he was,' Apuleius half laughed, 'then that happened long before he came here. Mistress, did you stop at any wine shop?'

Claudia tried to recall all the details. 'We did visit the Temple of Hathor near the Coelian Hill and met its high priest, Sesothenes, but I cannot remember Theodore eating or drinking anything. Thank you, Apuleius. Now, gentlemen,' she smiled, 'unless you are going to make another great discovery…'

They all took the hint, thanked her and left. Claudia heard them laughing as they went back up the garden path and into the tavern, to be greeted by roars of welcome by Burrus and his ruffians. She sat in the dark, watching the lamps flicker out. She preferred the dark to think. Moreover, it was such a beautiful evening, the sky completely cloud-free, the stars seeming to hang low, the full moon riding in all its glorious golden majesty across the dark blue heavens. She wondered how Murranus was doing, her mind going back to those macabre murders at General Aurelian's villa. Was there a loose thread? And Theodore's mysterious death? She'd found the Celsus manuscript fascinating, and recalled what Apuleius had said. If that was true, she thought, if Theodore was murdered, where did he eat or drink last? And why had he insisted on visiting that temple and that strange high priest?

Claudia felt her stomach tingle with excitement. Of course! She nipped her arm in self-punishment. She'd forgotten that! She'd passed it off as Theodore wanting to thank his favourite goddess before he joined the company at the She Asses, but that could have waited. So why did he go to the Temple of Hathor? She glanced up at the sky. It had been a long day, but she still felt fresh, not ready for sleep, whilst Burrus and his ruffians needed to work. They'd been sent into Rome to watch her, so watch her they could!

A short while later, Claudia left the tavern escorted by five German mercenaries. Burrus shuffled behind like one of the great trolls from his dark forests, grumbling under his breath at being snatched away from the coy glances of Januaria, the delicious food of Celades and the strong-bodied wine offered by Polybius. He and two of his companions carried torches taken from Polybius' stock; these, together with the clink of their weapons, made the street shadows shift away. Tinkers, counterfeit men, wizards and conjurors, the sellers of cheap stolen goods, the pimps and prostitutes all fled before what they recognised as a true menace. Claudia was absorbed in her own thoughts. She wished she'd concentrated more on Theodore. He was the key and she had forgotten that. Something else pricked her memory, something she'd read in Celsus' book and learned at the villa, but at the moment she could make no sense of it. She must first visit the Temple of Hathor. They went deeper and deeper into the slums, heading down a needle-thin street to where the temple stood in its own grounds. The denizens of the slums warned each other of the approach of strangers at night. Claudia could hear their shouts echoing eerily.

'Woman coming! Woman coming! Soldiers with her! Soldiers with her!' The message was passed along by these disembodied voices. Claudia felt she was walking down a path in Hades, with some dark-winged herald going before her.

When they reached the open square before the Temple of Hathor, the building looked deserted and boarded up. The doors were locked, bolted and barred. A beggar squatted on the top step. Claudia, escorted by Burrus, hurried across.

'The priests are here?' she asked. 'They've closed the temple, but are they here, in their house at the back?'

The beggar, milky-eyed, skin all sore, blinked and wetted his lips.

'Hungry I am,' he said, 'and I heard the shouts! Woman coming! You are a plump, delicious little morsel. If you hadn't these with you…'

Burrus half drew his sword. The man's voice turned wheedling.

'I am only a beggar,' he whined, i need something to eat and to drink. I'll tell the pretty lady everything she wants to know.'

Claudia pressed a coin into his hand; his skin felt rough and serrated, and his middle finger was missing.

'Soldier I was,' the man whined, following her gaze. 'Lost it in a battle far to the north fighting warriors like these.'